𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 ペイント 𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

chapter seven: family reunions are great! trust me!

       Everyone sat crammed around the small square table, eating soup. Many of its patrons took turns glaring at one another. A tension hung heavy above the ground, curling around the ankles of its members, sending a chill down their hollow bones. It didn't do much to fight back the biting anger that seemed to burn along the atmosphere above the table. The piercing glares, the quick glances, the downward twitch of a bitter mouth. Sneakers scuffing and squeaking and bandaged circular feet scraping against the ground, the nervous tapping of nails against wood. And, of course, the happy noises that a certain mutant turtle made as he gorged down on his fifth bowl of vegetable soup. The ends of his orange mask tails drenched with the salty liquid that he would probably chew on later. He seemed to be the only one enjoying his presence at his end at the cursed table, not taking any part in the tension. He was content with his bowls of soup, Pizza Gyoza, and fried noodles that Murakami brought to him, quite proud of the young man's appetite.

       On the other hand, you sat at the horizontal end of the table, your back to the entrance of the restaurant, as silence suffocated you. This entire situation felt wrong, to the point that you had refused all the food Murakami had offered you, already feeling the pangs of nausea induced anxiety. Awkward as it may have been for his family to show up and attempt to murder him, they were still his family. It was a funny thought, that he had brothers, and a father. A part of you had hoped that he had been a lonely kid, just like you. Your own family had consisted of a pair of workaholic parents who were always too busy to provide any attention, affection, or support. They had assumed that cartoons, your nanny, and all the toys in the world were enough for little you. It was not. You felt a ball of burning rage well up in your chest as memories resurfaced, but held back the dam of emotions threatening to burst. You would not have a mental breakdown at the table, especially in front of Leonardo and his family. You had already spent a good minute practicing breathing techniques in the back hallway after the events of... well, paint, had occurred a mere fifteen minutes ago.

     You rose your head slightly, hands twisting a thin paper napkin, as pieces ripped away attaching to your sweaty palms. You rubbed your hands together, allowing the cylinders of rolled up paper to tumble onto your jeans, decorating the denim below. Your eyes met his bloodshot ones for a fleeting moment, but they quickly averted themselves. He didn't want to look at you. You tried to pretend that such a small movement hadn't pained you, concerning yourself with how loud Isidore's breathing was while his head rested against Yaki's muscled thigh. His starchy yellow blond hair contrasted against the baggy black pants that she wore, the chain that she had hooked against her belt and pocket, draped across his forehead. Yaki dragged her dark fingers across the metal, and the soft skin of his forehead. And yet, focusing on such small intricacies unfolding before you did nothing to bat away at your tumbling thoughts. This all felt so wrong. It felt as if you two were both strangers again after he had fallen from the sky and you had left his unconscious self in the alley. Just this morning you two had been fighting over a stupid cucumber, glad for the distractions that plagued both of your lives. You two were just a pair of dumb teenagers who never got the chance to act that way.

     The red masked one, Raph, hadn't eaten at all; simply side eyeing Leonardo with his leather covered arms crossed. His shoulders were tense, muscles rippling against the jacket that strained from his strength. There was a sort of intensity that just screamed murder in his gaze, which, coupled with a set of vibrant green eyes, seemed to drag his message to slap his brother in the face. The mutant appeared poised to leap across the table and once more strangle his brother with his own bare hands. With all that had happened today, you wouldn't have batted an eye if he did just so.

     It hadn't gone so well when the rest of the mutants had met the employees of the restaurant. Murakami, unsurprisingly to you, had been absolutely delighted to be reunited with the boys he had practically adopted as his own. Smothering them all in bear hugs and asking about their health, the atmosphere had been wholesome. Isidore on the other hand, had screamed with the force of a thousand burning suns, and threw an entire tray of freshly made Pizza Gyoza into the air. The orange masked one who you had saved from imminent paralysis had dived for the fallen dumplings, shoveling about ten into his mouth in under a few seconds before Yaki and Raphael were able to pull him away from the mess.